


In and Outings

by Maiden_of_the_Moon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Humor, I'm Sorry, Just pure crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9965465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_the_Moon/pseuds/Maiden_of_the_Moon
Summary: Yuri balks. He is on his way to giving himself permanent wrinkles, what with the sort of faces he’s pulling. “Nikiforov, I’m seven-flippin’-teen. I don’t need a fuckingbabysitter.”“Oh. Yes, well— Maybe ‘babysitter’ is the wrong word,” Viktor agrees, thoughtfully tapping his bottom lip. He mulls, “Vocabulary is hard.Sohard. I mean, difficult. Let’s try again. Phichit is here to… Tend to you? Distract you? Get you out and to entertain you? I don’t know, how would you phrase it, Phichit?”“I’m here because Mister Ice Daddy needs it rough up the ass in theworstfreakin’ way, but my bff5eva is worried about what a certain underage skating protégé might hear with his virgin ears,” Phichit salutes, simpering.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dangersocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangersocks/gifts).



**Disclaimer:** Yuri on Nope.

 **Author’s Note:** I wrote this for Dangersocks at 11 PM when I was crazy tired. I have no other excuses.

**XXX**

**In and Outings**

**XXX**

“Ah! My grandson!”

The grin on the man in the doorway is one of those hundred-watt deals, and sunny enough to make Yuri flinch from its brightness like a vampire. He hisses like one, too. But it is the stranger who _sucks_ like one, and he sucks _hard_ if that is the first impression he has chosen to give. 

“‘Grandson?’” Yuri echoes in a growl. Nostrils flare beneath a deeply furrowed brow. “What the hell are you talking about? And who the fuck’re you?” 

The visitor —Thai, the Russian boy notes, with thick black hair and smooth chestnut skin and a candy-sweet aura that makes Yuri feel mildly diabetic— is quite young. Only a few years Yuri’s senior, probably. Decades from being an _actual_ senior, definitely. When he laughs, his grin is white and toothy. 

“Well,” the jovial Thai explains, “Yuuri is my son, you see. And _you_ are _Viktor and Yuuri’s_ son. So by that logic, you are my grandson.” 

A beam. A beat. 

“…and what the shit sort of ‘logic’ is _that?_ ” Yuri sneers, exasperated, as revulsion narrows his gaze. “There’s nothing ‘logical’ about that at all! Not only are you, like 20—which is _younger_ than Yuuri—, the piggy and the old man are _not_ my—!”

“Yurio, Ice Daddy heard shouting.”

Yup. Of course. Pick Viktor Fucking Nikiforov to choose the exact _worst_ moment with the _best_ dramatic timing to pop out from around the God-damn corner. Yuri’s features fall as flat as freshly Zamboni’d ice as Viktor gasps, plucking his heart from where he wears it on his sleeve and using it instead to decorate his face. “Phichitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang!” 

“Ah! Winner McWinnerson!” 

“Jesus Christ on a bike,” Yuri groans, collapsing against the wall as the delighted idiots bounce into a friendly embrace. Great, now there are _two_ numbnuts to deal with. Literally, this is the last thing he needs right now. The actual, _literal_ last.

Or so he thinks until Viktor turns to him and sing-songs, “Yurio, this is Phichit! He’s gonna be your babysitter tonight!” 

“…the shit?” Yuri balks. He is on his way to giving himself permanent wrinkles, what with the sort of faces he’s pulling. “Nikiforov, I’m seven-flippin’-teen. I don’t need a fucking _babysitter_.” 

“Oh. Yes, well— Maybe ‘babysitter’ is the wrong word,” Viktor agrees, thoughtfully tapping his bottom lip. He mulls, “Vocabulary is hard. _So_ hard. I mean, difficult. Let’s try again. Phichit is here to… Tend to you? Distract you? Get you out and to entertain you? I don’t know, how would you phrase it, Phichit?”

“I’m here because Mister Ice Daddy needs it rough up the ass in the _worst_ freakin’ way, but my bff5eva is worried about what a certain underage skating protégé might hear with his virgin ears,” Phichit salutes, simpering. 

The announcement makes Yuri choke. Viktor hums. 

“Not the _pithiest_ answer,” the Living Legend muses, oblivious to the steam that has begun pluming from Yuri’s ears, “but certainly the most accurate.”

“Yeah, but you know, I’ve learned it’s safest to go the blunt route, language barriers being what they are…”

“Oh, yes, for sure, for—”

“—fuck’s sake?!” Yuri interrupts, wheezing—okay, squeaking— in tones of absolute mortification. “I wouldn’t—? I didn’t—?! I don’t have ‘virgin ears’!” 

At this, Viktor and Phichit exchange startled glances, opposing brows cocked.

“Oookay, well, not gonna allow myself to linger on the logistics of _that_...” the Thai boy says lightly, looking respectfully askance. Viktor, meanwhile, stares directly into Yuri’s burning face, his lips suddenly pursed thin and somber.

“If that’s not a joke, Yuratchka, I’ve got some calls to make to Otabek and the local police and—”

“ _Gah!_ No!” A sickened shout cuts short his caretaker’s concerns; Yuri throws his hands into the air, then uses them to cover up his blistered, totally-not-virgin-but-also-yes-still-virgin ears. “In the name of the Motherland, for God’s sake, shut up! _Fuck!_ ” 

“That _is_ his plan,” Phichit butts in, smirking, his phone in his fist and his camera at the ready. Given the muffled _clicks_ that have penetrated the splay of Yuri’s palms, the older boy has already gotten some choice shots of the blonde’s horror. “And, again, that is why I’m here. It’s also why you _shouldn’t_ be. Look, I’ve been assigned to hotel rooms next to these two, and I’m surprised they didn’t wind up bashing down the walls like the fucking Kool-Aid Man. That’s a pun,” he deems it necessary to add, helpfully unhelpful. If it fazes Phichit that Yuri does not blink, much less laugh, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, amiable, he continues, “But real talk, my dude— My suffering was ultimately for naught, as I’m not even sure what I overheard could be used as blackmail, you know? Nothing was left to the imagination. There is no secret. Everyone knows. As in, the rest of the hotel could hear them, too, and it was, like, 97% filthy, filthy eros and 3% post-coital agape. My poor mind bears scars deeper than the cut of any knife-shoe. It’s still a struggle for me to meet Yuuri’s eyes, sometimes. Sad, right? Certainly a fate that your concerned parental units would rather not see you endure. So.” 

“…so?”

“So! He’s gonna get you some _tail_ , Yurio!” Viktor interjects, energetic rather than euphemistic. Or so Yuri hopes. “Me _ow~_ ”

Or so Yuri prays. 

And for once, those prayers are answered.

“He means that we’re going to the cat café. The Bengal cat café,” Phichit clarifies, almost gently, before flashing a merry V for Victory. Or Viktuuri? Or is that not a V at all? Why would anyone feel compelled to stick their tongue between the slit of an alphabet letter, and why would Viktor find their doing so hilarious? 

Whatever. Moronic humor for morons, probably. It sets Yuri’s teeth grinding. 

…considering present circumstances, he wishes he hadn’t used the word ‘grinding.’ 

“Oh for— Christ, you two, shut _up_. Stop with the tittering. _Honestly_. You don’t need to sell me on the idea of getting away from the skating world’s Most Disgusting Couple for a few hours,” Yuri snarls, pink-cheeked and grumbling and already in the shoe well yanking on his sneakers. “Let’s _go_ already.” 

If Phichit lights up at this uncharacteristic show of compliance, Viktor practically _glows_.

“Ah! Yuri~~~!” 

“Wha— No! Oh my God, _no_ , do not hug me do not _touch_ me save it for your husband, _c’mon now_ —!”

“Woo! All right then! Pre-adventure selfie!” Phichit exclaims over their wails, throwing one arm around Viktor, who has both arms around Yuri, who is valiantly and fruitlessly trying to shove an excessive number of arms from his sagging back. Adjusting both phone and smile until they are just-so, the pretty Thai boy winks and decides, “Hashtag Bengal Boys, Hashtag Café Cuties, Hashtag Yuri Gets Pussy and Viktor Gets D—”

“—on’t even _think_ about using that!”

**XXX**


End file.
